


Gar Cuyir Yaim (You Are Home)

by B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Rancors (Star Wars), Reader-Insert, Romance, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), threat of unwanted sexual advances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire/pseuds/B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire
Summary: All (Y/n) can remember is being sold to Jabba at a young age. She has grown up within his palace walls, hearing tales of great warriors called Mandalorians. Just as she faces what may be her last few days alive, a big blue Mandalorian shows up.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Comments: 18
Kudos: 96





	1. Vercopa (Hope)

**Author's Note:**

> (This takes place in a universe where Jabba never died in Return of The Jedi - maybe he passed out or something)
> 
> Hi! This is my first time posting a fic on Ao3. You can also find this on Tumblr under blue_bird_on_a_wire. Please feel free to give feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. Or if you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me on Tumblr! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

The room was always full and loud, bustling with music from the band and conversation between various criminals. It was a place full of sleemos making deals, only to backstab each other when the twin suns set. The smell of sweat left a foul taste in your mouth, but it was easier to ignore the longer you stayed. One might say this palace was full of life if not for the giant slug who controlled everyone within it. All who stayed there were either a slave through debt or in chains.

I was not so lucky as to be a slave through debt. I could not work my way out of slavery, for I was in chains.

Sold to Jabba as a girl, almost all of my life had been within his palace walls. I had been a server while growing up. Hardly anyone ever paid attention to me as I scrambled around the place. I served and refilled drinks, or cleaned up after “guests” who died by the hand of Jabba's goons.

My biggest fear, aside from the rancor pit beneath my feet, was being turned into one of Jabba’s dancers. He went through them faster than a womp rat could scurry through an alleyway at night. If Jabba’s rancor wasn’t fed by someone who failed to pay back their debt, it was fed by a dancer after Jabba grew tired of them. A pretty face would only last so long.

I had learned a lot from listening to bounty hunters tell stories about their travels. My favorites were the stories about the Mandalorians. They were warriors who lived by a strict code and valued family just as much as they valued their weapons or beskar armor. 

As a child, I would dream of these Mandalorians coming to Jabba’s palace, and taking me away. They would raise me to be one of them like I was a foundling. I wanted to be strong like a Mandalorian too, in how they could strike fear into even the most dangerous criminals with only a tilt of their head.

Although I had never seen one before, I knew they wore what was called beskar armor, and were not allowed to take off their helmets. Some people said they would paint their armor a different color from the shiny silver of beskar metal. I remember overhearing a conversation about Mandalorian traditions in regards to their loyalty and the love for their children. I painted a picture in my head of these great warriors and idolized them as the heroes in my daydreams. I never thought I would meet a real one.

~ ~ ~

“‘Nother round o’ spotchka!” a bounty hunter called as I walked past his table. “An’ ‘Urry it up, Babe!”

I did my best to refrain from rolling my eyes as I quickly made my way to the bar.

The thin metal collar around my neck rubbed at my skin as I turned my head to look up at the bartender. It was a constant reminder of my place within this hierarchy, though after so long I had nearly grown numb to the pain. 

“Spotchka please, for table six,” I said, watching as the bartender took a glance behind me to make sure there was actually someone at that table.

There were no true friends here. It was almost a rule to expect lies coming from everyone's mouth. Besides, Jabba had issues with his slaves and alcohol consumption in the past, hence the unease for my honesty (not that I had ever been dishonest with this bartender before). The bartender turned around and pulled a glass from off the shelf. He filled it with the glowing blue alcohol and slid it across the bar table.

I smiled at him, picked up the glass, and gave a nod in thanks.

Though I did my best to ignore it, my neck burned at the gesture. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a little bit of bacta gel from one of the closets downstairs. I planned to sneak in there while no one was watching. Maybe I could find a few moments to myself as well, away from the hustle and bustle of the people in the throne room.

“Took ya long enough, Babe. I was startin’ to think ya ‘ad forgotten abou’ me,” the bounty hunter said as I returned with his alcohol. He stroked his patchy beard and eyed me up and down while I set his drink on the table.

I kept my gaze cast downward with my lips tightly pressed together. All I wanted was to get in and out without being noticed, but as I have grown older that had become much harder to do.

Just as I turned to leave, I saw the bounty hunter pick up the glass and dump its contents on the floor.

“Oops,” he said. “Guess ya gotta clean that up, Babe.”

I could feel my face heating up, knowing full well what game he was playing at. I wasn’t stupid. I had seen guests do this to other slave girls before. It never ended well for one or the other person.

I pulled a rag hanging from my belt, as it was common for me to be cleaning up spills. Instead of bending over, I chose to keep my front facing the bounty hunter and squat in order to wipe up the blue alcohol.

“‘Ome on now, Babe! Don’ be tha’ way,” the bounty hunter wined, banging his fist on the table as I stood up.

“Would you like another drink?” I asked, plucking the now empty glass from the table.

“Betta’ watch ya tone with me, ‘ittle one. I’m sure Jabba woulden’ wanna ‘ear abou’ trouble comin’ fro’ ya.”

I smiled, though it did not reach my eyes. “I’ll take that as a no,” I said and walked away to dispose of the rag and fetch a new one. I felt proud of myself, though the feeling did not last very long.

“Jabba!”

The throne room grew quiet with the bounty hunters' booming voice.

My blood ran cold and I froze in place.

Jabba finished chewing on a roasted frog before grumbling out in huttese.

“The great and powerful Jabba demands to know what you want, bounty hunter,” translated the crime lord’s red protocol droid.

The middle-aged man stood from his seat, drunkenly staggering up to Jabba’s throne.

“Don’ ya think tha’ pretty ‘ittle server ovah there,” the bounty hunter pointed at me. “Odda make a good danca?”

I thought my knees were going to collapse. I could feel my fingers twitching around the glass, and my eyes widened as I watched him.

Jabba paused for a moment before speaking.

“The all mighty Jabba wants to know what makes you say this,” droned the protocol droid.

The man looped his fingers through his belt while he turned to look at me. “She’s been ‘ere for a long time, Jabba. She’s experienced with this crowd. I’d imagine she’d make herself more useful to ya in tha’ way before her expiration date.”

My heartbeat was picking up speed with every second this dragged on. My expiration date? What, were they planning to kill me once I reached a certain age or something?

Jabba spoke again, his tone was much harsher than before.

“The great and powerful Jabba says you should not be telling him what to do.”

“Oh! Bu’ o’ course not! Look, Jabba, all I’m askin’ is tha’ ya-”

Jabba cut the bounty hunter off and spoke more aggressively.

Everyone in the room flinched back at his tone, even the protocol droid.

“The all mighty Jabba says you are in no position to be making deals, bounty hunter.”

“Jabba! Jabba! Now, wait a minute and jus’ liste-”

The overgrown slug slammed his fist down on a button on his throne, opening the rancor pit.

Gasps could be heard through the room as the bounty hunter fell into the beast’s layer.

The crowd quickly swarmed around the grates on the floor, subsequently pushing me forward as well. They laughed and jeered as the rancor was released from its cage.

I felt my stomach churn as I listened to the bounty hunter screaming and pleading for his life. I would never understand the appeal of watching a monster devour people.

At least that man would never pray on anyone ever again.

As the rancor picked up the helpless bounty hunter and swallowed him whole, the crowd let out a big cheer.

I was nearly elbowed in the face with all the commotion before the crowd pulled back and dispersed to where they had been before.

I shuffled backward with everyone, the breath I had been holding was finally released.

This must have meant I would remain a server after all.

Jabba finished laughing, and I began to leave and fetch another towel when I heard my name leave his slimy lips.

Oh boy.

I halted in my steps, dread shooting back down to the pit of my belly. I turned on my heels, knowing one should never leave Jabba waiting.

“Yes, great and powerful Jabba?” I squeaked out, quiet enough that I wasn’t sure I had been heard at all.

Jabba hummed before he spoke.

“The all mighty Jabba says the bounty hunter was stupid, but made a good point,” explained the protocol droid. “You are getting old, and your youth will not last for much longer.”

I didn't think I was that old.I must have been in my 20′s at least. If I wasn't so terrified, I might have been offended.

I tried to control my trembling but my muscles ached with the effort. Was it hot in that room, or was it just me?

Jabba gestured to some of his goons as he continued to speak.

“He says you have one rotation to learn the dances.”

One of Jabba’s goons grabbed me by my upper arm, dragging me away into the back of the Palace while the music resumed and chatter once again filled the palace.

I had no words, but my thoughts were running a mile a minute. This was it. This would be my death. Within a week I would be eaten by the seething monster below if I wasn’t sold off to a bounty hunter as payment or reward for a job well done.

I couldn't even dance! How was I supposed to learn to dance in twenty-four hours? I could probably wiggle like a Hutt, but nothing more elaborate than that!

Who was I kidding? With my only skills as a scurrying little waitress, my lack of grace when it comes to moving my body in any fashion, and my definitely-not-as-beautiful-as-a-twi'lek’-body there was no way I would survive even an hour on that throne.

Before I could register what was happening, I was being fitted into royal blue undergarments underneath a black fishnet jumpsuit. The outfit left hardly anything to the imagination. This was something I had once seen a green twi'lek girl wearing several years ago. Oola, I believe was her name. It seemed as though Jabba had someone fish her outfit from the inside of his pet’s belly. Maybe it was worth more than it looked, but I would not want to be the one assigned the task of retrieving it.

I was shoved into a secluded room, where a holo-vid with a skinny-looking rodian was showing demonstrations for various dance moves.

As soon as Jabba’s goon left, I began to watch the rodian. I stood and tried to copy his gestures and from, but ultimately I stumbled over myself and was left winded.

Late into the night, I continued to practice until the soles of my bare feet hurt. I could already feel the blisters I would have in a few hours, and I had grown frustrated.

I was about ready to completely give up, curl into a ball on the floor, and cry myself to sleep. It felt useless anyhow. The rancor probably already knew my name, and was just waiting for me down below.

I felt hopeless, at least until I began to think about those Mandalorian stories.

I was sure a Mandalorian would never give up. They probably fought until their very last breath even when they knew the end was staring them straight in the eyes.

I took a deep breath, grounded myself, and did the best that I could to fight through the pain, tiredness, and hopelessness that threatened to break me.

Keeping track of my feet while also making sure to move my arms and put on a smile was difficult. It was like juggling glasses of spotchka while walking on a tightrope over a Sarlacc pit. However, I was determined to figure it out.

I would not be a pathetic little thing who laid down at death's door. I was going to fight with everything I had, even though I felt like I was attacking a Krayt Dragon with a spoon.

Come morning, my muscles were stiff and ached. I was covered in layers of sweat, but I knew I had done all I could to prepare myself to go out with a bang.

I was led to the sonic showers, where I cleaned myself up before donning that same dancer's outfit as before. It was as though the whole outfit screamed my designation as a slave, with the revealing design meant for the pleasure of anyone but the wearer.

No matter, I fixed my hair and kept my chin up as I was escorted back to the throne room.

Sure enough, Jabba was waiting with a heavy-looking chain in hand.

He said something in huttese that the protocol droid did not translate before he clasped the chain to a loop in the front of my collar.

I had never been this close to the crime lord before, but I swore his breath could kill alone. That must have been how he had risen to power, as I just could not imagine Jabba as a fighter who won his way to victory through blaster fire or skill with a vibroblade. No, he most defiantly must only need to burp to murder everyone within the room. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the entire palace only smelled so badly because of him.

"The great and powerful Jabba commands you to sit," says the protocol droid.

It was only then that I realized Jabba had addressed me, as he gestured to a spot on his throne beside his tail.

I moved to that spot and crossed my legs as I sat there, the chain swaying heavily with my movements.

I lifted a hand to rub the irritated skin around my neck, only to flinch away as the touch of my fingers stung my skin. Perhaps touching my wounds was worse in the long run. Disappointment filled me knowing there would be no way to get ahold of that batch gel now.

I wondered how difficult it would be to dance with the giant chain connected to my collar because of the extra weight it put on my neck.

Soon enough, the crowd in the throne room was as lively as ever, with the band playing their repetitive upbeat melodies.

For a few hours, not once did Jabba command me to dance, and for that I was grateful. My bare feet were allowed a few hours of rest, while my mind was allowed to wander.

Would it hurt to die? Would I feel my soul slipping from my body? What would happen in death? Would everything go black or would there be something waiting beyond it? My mind was spiraling and all I could focus on was my inevitable doom.

That was until a new bounty hunter entered the palace.

Thud. Thud. Thud. His steps were heavy.

He was huge, dressed from head to toe in blue armor. Easily 6’6”, this man could command the room with his size alone.

I struggled to find what he was looking at, as the dark visor on his helmet left no clues as to where his eyes wandered.

Jabba laughed as he spotted the bounty hunter. He raised his arms in welcome.

"The all mighty Jaba wonders what you are doing here, Mandalorian," translated the protocol droid.

Mandalorian? Wait a minute. This was a Mandalorian?

I felt my face heat up in embarrassment while my spine straightened a little. I had been waiting for a Mandalorian my whole life, but it occurred to me at that moment I was dressed in something so revealing when one finally showed up. I hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but I was right beside Jabba which made that very unlikely.

He looked so much more powerful than I had imagined those of his creed to be. This man would be able to take on a rancor just by barreling into it, given how much he looked like a tank. There was no doubt in my mind anymore about how Mandalorians were able to tame the great Mythasaures on their homeworld.

There was something about him that was also familiar. Perhaps it was the black visor which hid his eyes, or simply the general design of his armor. I felt like I had seen those of his kind before, though I swore I had never met a Mandalorian before. Surely I must have been creating false memories for myself.

The Mandalorian paused in front of Jabba's throne, and it became apparent he made sure not to stand above the entrance to the rancor pit.

"I mean you no trouble, Jabba. I am only seeking out a bounty said to be hiding within your palace," the Mandalorian said. His voice was deep and raspy, like the rumbling of a generator just before it reaches full power.

As Jabba again spoke in his native language, I noticed the Mandalorian’s helmet tilt in my direction and his shoulders tensed.

There was no way he was looking at me, right! It had to of been someone behind me.

He was definitely looking at me, and I was trembling from both fear and excitement under his gaze. He could shoot everyone in this room if he wanted to and not suffer a scratch from it.

From the bottom of my heart, I hoped he was here for me, though I knew those thoughts to be childhood fantasies. I had lost hope long ago of seeing the stars one last time before I would die in this place.

"The wise Jaba asks who you are looking for."

The Mandalorian’s focus snapped back to Jabba. He unclipped a bounty puck from his belt. "I am here for someone that owes a debt to the crime lord, Twene Shias, here on Tatooine."

Jabba, as well as the crowd gasped. He pulled back and began to gesture wildly, which caused my chain to be inconsiderately tugged.

I tried not to choke at the movement while I scooted closer to the giant slug in an attempt to ease the pressure on my neck.

Jabba hummed before his protocol droid said, "The great and powerful Jabba, though shocked, wants to make a deal. He says he will hand over whoever you are looking for, in return for the murder of this Twene Shias."

The Mandalorian paused for a moment. "This bounty I am after is worth much less than the head of this other crime lord. Surely, as a part of one of the most powerful and wealthy crime syndicates, you can offer me a little bit more than this."

Jabba considered the Mandalorian’s words with small nods of his head.

"Jabba the Hutt says that although this is already a generous offer, he wants to know what else you might want."

The big blue Mandalorian nodded while he gestured with his helmet in my direction.

"How about her?"

Me? Was he serious?

Jabba burst into laughter, the crowd within the palace following suit.

I felt my face heat up and my heart jumped into my throat. I turned my head away from the Mandalorian, fiddling with my skimpy outfit.

I must have been dreaming. There was no way this mandalorian was referring to me. If he was, he had no clue just how useless I would be to him.

Once Jabba was able to get a hold of his laughter, he spoke again.

"The all mighty Jabba says this girl is not worth anything. She is a servant in this palace with no skill sets of value to a Mandalorian such as yourself," explained the droid. "That is, unless you are a Mandalorian with other needs."

The blue armored man scoffed. “Then Jabba can spare one measly dancer in exchange for the murder of a rivaling crime lord.”

Jabba, whose pride was easily wounded, wasted no time to correct his words.

“The great and powerful Jabba says that if this is what you wish, he will gladly transfer ownership of the girl to you after you bring back this crime lord’s head.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as my head shot up to look at the Mandalorian.

Oh my gosh, he was serious. I would belong to a Mandalorian? What would this mean? What would he want with me?

The Mandalorian puffed out his chest, “You have a deal. Now, where is the toydarian, Drob Tufme?”

Jabba gestured to some of his goons behind him, who quickly entered the crowd.

Yelling could be heard from near the bar before a hunched-over toydarian was shoved onto the floor at the Mandalorian’s feet. “Hey! Hey!” Drob Tufme shouted, scrambling to stand up. “I didn’t do nothin’! I don’t got no debt!”

The Mandalorian quickly shoved Drob to his knees, running the blinking red fob over his head before clipping it back onto his belt.

“Doesn't matter,” said the Mandalorian while he cuffed Drob.

The Mandalorian pulled Drop to his feet and gave Jabba a nod before he turned and dragged the squirming toydarian out of the palace.

There was a pause before the quiet throne room burst back to life with the Mandalorian now gone. It was as though a weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders.

It was at that moment a new realization came over me. I wasn’t going to die in this horribly smelly place. I wouldn't be eaten by the monster below, nor shot by stray blaster fire. I refused to allow myself to think about what my life would be like in the hands of this Mandalorian. I did not want to believe my circumstances could get any worse than they already were. Perhaps it was simply for the preservation of my sanity, but I felt giddy inside that my childhood fantasy of being taken away by a Mandalorian were sort of coming true. One should never give up on childish hopes.


	2. Redalur (Dance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While (Y/n) waits for the Mandalorian to return, Jabba thinks about changing the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! You can also find this fic on Tumblr under Blue_Bird_On_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel that there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to let me know! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

Waiting for the big blue Mandalorian to return was difficult. I could hardly contain both my excitement and dread.

On one hand, I knew this would mean I would no longer be Jabba’s slave, but I also wondered what this Mandalorian had in store for me.

What would a Mandalorian want with a measly servant like myself? As far as I was concerned, Mandalorians did not have slaves. But of course, I didn’t know everything about them. In fact, they might be cannibals or even droids. Maybe that was why they were not allowed to take off their helmets because undeath was a jumbled mess of wiring and circuits.

Of course, this all may have just been a dream. Perhaps I only imagined what had occurred within the throne room only hours prior. Maybe Jabba had already fed me to the rancor and this was the best thing my subconscious could realistically come up with for an afterlife.

Then again, if that were the case, I never imagined my neck would still hurt after I died.

"Chin up, girl," muttered one of Jabba's goons just to the side of me. "If you're not dancing, at least look somewhat engaged."

I raised my head from the floor to glance at him, noticing the way he kept his head foreword and eyes locked on the crowd.

Of course, he was not free to prance around however he pleased either. I was sure there must have been a debt he owed to Jabba if he was stuck as a bodyguard. Either way, there was nothing I could do for him but be grateful for the advice.

I turned my gaze to look at Jabba, just as he threw his head back to laugh at something a different bounty hunter had said beside him.

I was doing my best to look anywhere but at the crowd in front of me. I knew I would only find hungry gazes coming from sleemos who didn’t know when to keep it in their pants.

Smile, I told myself. You have to smile if you want to survive.

Or maybe smiling just made me look more awkward and out of place.

I decided to think about other things. I thought taking my mind off of the present would make me feel a little better.

How would this Mandalorian look at me? Surly I was one of the weakest people he had ever come across. I was not brave nor strong like those of his kind. Maybe he only felt bad about my predicament, or was lying to Jabba and would never come back for me. That thought made my stomach churn. At least if he returned, there was hope I would live to see another day.

Thinking did not make me feel better.

I felt my chain being tugged backward, and the pressure on my neck made me choke.

"The great and powerful Jabba commands you to dance," droned Jabba's protocol droid.

I felt my stomach drop. "Now?" I asked.

I knew I was only there to look like a wall decoration or sway my hips to the music when asked, but I had assumed I would not be doing those things since I had been promised to the Mandalorian. Wouldn't Jabba want me looking nice for his return? Certainly not sweaty and tired.

Jabba hummed.

"Yes. Jabba commands you to dance, now."

I felt my stomach drop and the bad sort of tingling erupted across my skin.

"But I-"

"The all-powerful Jabba says you have no say in the matter."

"But the Mandalorian!" I blurted without thinking.

I heard the crowd quiet down at my outburst, though they did not go completely silent.

Jabba gave me a firm stare.

"The mighty Jabba says that you still belong to him until the Mandalorian’s return. You will do as he demands."

This couldn't be happening. I was going to embarrass both myself and this crime lord, which would lead to a horrible outcome for all parties involved.

Jabba tugged harder on my chain, forcing me to stand and stumble closer to him.

“Do not keep the great and powerful Jabba waiting,” the droid warned.

"Yes, Jabba," I whispered, knowing full well what happened to people who defied him.

As one song ended and another one began, I walked out to the center of the room. Below me was the trap door to the rancor pit, which nagged in the back of my mind about how at any second I could be plummeting down there.

Taking a deep breath, I swept one foot out in front of me in a half-circle-like motion. I lifted my hands above my head before I trailed them down my sides, twirling and swaying with the upbeat tune.

My movements felt awkward but I was just happy to have not stumbled over my feet quite yet.

I took a glance around the room, seeing that while people were watching me, most were engaged in conversation or busy with their drinks. The sight made me feel more confident. At least not everyone's eyes were on me.

The music began picking up pace, while my dancing began to feel a little more natural. My hips swayed to the beat, and my head nodded along while I tried to remember what I rushed to learn during the previous night.

The movements still felt a bit strange for me, and I had to think hard in order to keep track of my hands and feet. I could feel my thighs brushing together as I moved, and my tummy jiggled a little.

I began to feel as though I had really started to get the hang of dancing when all of a sudden, as I was twirling, I tripped over my own chain and landed flat on my butt.

The entire throne room burst out into laughter. Now everyone was staring at me, unlike before.

I detangled my feet from the chain and scrambled to stand. Just as I did so, the chain was pulled backward, and I fell again with a yelp.

Welp, there was no way I could embarrass myself further than this.

Jabba laughed as he continued to pull me back by the chain. I practically had to crawl backwards onto his slab of a throne to keep from choking.

“The all mighty Jabba says he might have to pay the Mandalorian instead because your dancing is so bad,” the protocol droid translated.

Oh. Maybe I wasn't doing good. How stupid could I really be to have thought that? I wasn’t perfect like Oola, though I was dressed like her. I couldn't move the way she had.

Everyone in the room wouldn't stop laughing. Why wouldn't they stop laughing?

My skin burned hot and my vision grew blurry with unshed tears. I began to think that neither outcome would be better for me. Jabba was right. As soon as the blue Mandalorian realized how useless and clumsy I was, he would not keep me. I didn’t know what he would do with me, but my heart sank at the idea of making a fool of myself in front of the Mandalorian.

At least if I stayed with Jabba, my misery would end sooner. The Mandalorian would return, be handed a hefty amount of money and leave. I would likely never see him again. It seemed as though this outcome with Jabba would be much more simple. If I stayed with Jabba, I knew what would happen to me. I had no idea what this Mandalorian wanted from me, or what he would do with me once we left.

I wanted to curl up in a ball, shrink myself to be so small that I couldn't be seen with even a microscope. Being born as a microscopic organism would have been preferable. At least no one could see them, so there was never anything to be embarrassed about.

I continued to be lost in my thoughts for a little while longer, enough so that the crowd within the throne room went back to their normal chatter.

I barely held myself together for the next few hours.

As soon as things in the throne room quieted down, and Jabba was finally asleep for the night, I let my pitiful walls down. I silently cried, longing to have never been born. Experiencing death was one thing, but having never existed at all was another. 

Perhaps in another life, I would have been stronger.

Maybe even free.

~ ~ ~

Another day passed, full of uneventful staring and a smelly Jabba, before the big blue Mandalorian returned.

It was slowly becoming evening, and the crowd was beginning to wind down.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The boots of the now familiar Mandalorian came walking into Jabba’s palace.

I could feel my heart begin to beat faster as he entered, walking with confidence as though there was no threat of danger here at all.

I tried to keep my feelings of excitement at bay, knowing Jabba would likely change their deal. I had it in my head that I would not be going with the Mandalorian that evening.

In his hand was a small sack, which he began to open as he approached Jabba’s throne.

Jabba hummed in amusement. Just as the giant slug began to speak, the Mandalorian reached into the sack and pulled out a head.

The whole room gasped and the music stopped. All eyes were on the Mandalorian with the severed head.

What a grotesque sight it was.

It was dripping something green. Blood, I presumed, considering it was the head of a Gran. It’s three eyes slumped downward while it’s tongue rolled out of its mouth.

I was trying so hard not to gag.

“The head of Twene Shias, as requested,” said the Mandalorian. He then turned to look at me, and I felt my belly twist in knots.

Jabba gestured to one of his goons and spoke in huttese.

“The most gracious Jabba thanks you for getting rid of this Gran. He offers to pay you for your services,” said the protocol droid.

The goon walked up to the Mandalorian, offering him a fairly large pouch of credits.

The Mandalorian paid no attention to the offer. “We agreed to a trade. Twene’s head in exchange for the lady,” said the Mandalorian as he squared his shoulders and looked from me to Jabba.

Lady? I had never been called a lady before. Just a girl. Always a girl. Lady wasn’t a word I associated myself with. It was meant for someone worth more than me.

Jabba chuckled.

“The all mighty Jabba says you will not be pleased with the company of this girl, and it would offend him for you to refuse his alternative reward.”

“Give me the girl,” demanded the Mandalorian as he tossed Twene’s head in front of Jabba.

Ah, there it was. _Girl._ I was a girl again. Maybe Jabba would understand that word instead, because I don’t think there was a word for lady in huttese. Maybe it translated to woman, which Jabba did not see me as.

Jabba grumbled, his voice raising in volume.

“Jabba the Hutt says that if you want her so badly, you can come and take her.”

Just as the droid finished speaking, I felt hands grab my shoulders and shove me to the floor.

“Wa- Wait!” I yelped, landing on top of the trap door.

Jabba slammed his hand onto a button, and the trap door opened.

I screamed, tumbling down to the monster below. My hands and knees caught the brunt of my fall, but I could feel rocks and coarse sand digging into my skin.

Blaster fire could be heard from above.

I struggled to stand, feeling weak from both fear and the fall. I was lucky the chain had been dropped inside the cage, or else I may have died from a snapped neck or having been strangled to death.

The rancor pit was huge, but there was no room for escape. The only way out would be up, and there was no way I could climb these walls.

It was dark down there, the only light was that which came from the room above.

A giant rusty gate began to lift in front of me, and I could hear growls coming from the rancor on the other side.

“Help!” I screamed, backing up into the wall farthest from the beast. “No, please! Jabba! Jabba stop!”

Just as I could start to see the belly of the rancor, I heard the roar of fire descend from above.

Something firm wrapped around my middle, causing me to yelp. I was pulled until my back met something else cold and hard.

I looked down to find a blue metal arm, littered with scratches and dents. The grip it had on me was strong, and I felt like air was being squeezed from my lungs.

All of a sudden, my feet were no longer on the ground. I screamed as I was lifted up in the air, scrambling to find something to hold onto.

I reached back behind me, so that one of my hands was behind this person’s neck while my other hand was clutching at their arm by my front.

My heart was beating out of my chest, and my breathing was so fast I almost wasn’t taking in any air at all. I squeezed my eyes shut.

The sound of the rancor gate clicking sent more chills down my spine.

The beast was out.

“Haar'chak!” I heard from behind me.

Wait a minute. The Mandalorian!

I quickly opened my eyes at the realization, only to find the rancor inches below my dangling feet.

Just as the monster’s mouth opened to lunge at either my or the Mandalorian's legs, we were back above the cage.

The Mandalorian landed on the floor of the throne room, letting me go in the process.

I stumbled out of his hold, struggling to stand with so much adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

He turned on his heels, pointing a finger at Jabba who looked more frightened than a womp rat in a swimming pool.

“Ne shab'rud'ni! You’re lucky you have friends in high places, otherwise, you would be dead where you lay!” spat the Mandalorian. “Try something like that again and your whole palace will burn to the ground!”

The normally rambunxious crowd was cowering behind tables and chairs. I could see a few dead bodies strewn about, and the marks of missed blaster fire on the walls.

Jabba didn’t make a sound.

The Mandalorian huffed, before holding out his hand. “Hand over her chip,” he demanded.

Jabba scrambled to open a compartment on his throne. He fished around in it before pulling out a small, triangular rod. He shoved it into the Mandalorian's hand.

The Mandalorian pocketed it, before turning to me. “Let’s go.”

Without even looking to see if I was following, he began to walk out of the palace.

I quickly picked up the chain still connected to my collar and scurried after him. 

I didn’t dare look behind me. All I would find was a seething Jabba.

The Mandalorian’s pace was fast, and I felt like I was taking three steps for every one of his.

We neared the entrance of the palace, and a sudden sense of calmness washed over me. I could see light in the distance. Real, natural light - not the stuff coming from the lamps inside.

I was free of Jabba. No matter what awaited me now, I would no longer die within his domain.

As I walked outside for the first time in many years, I felt myself tearing up. I had forgotten just how warm sunlight could feel on my skin. 

It was beautiful.

Rolling sand stretched on forever like a blanket, undisturbed and untouched by none but the setting suns. The sky was a dull pink, and on the brink of becoming a light purple. I had never seen something so breathtaking.

“Hey.”

I realized I had stopped walking, having been gazing at the scenery around me.

“Let’s _go_ ,” said the Mandalorian, whose head was now tilted down at me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, jogging to meet him.

He said nothing, turned around, and continued to take me somewhere.

We trudged through the sand for what felt like miles. My bare feet were becoming burned and blistered. It was much harder to navigate than it looked, though the Mandalorian made it look easy.

Soon, we came upon a ship. It was old but still looked well taken care of. I had not seen a ship for a long time. This one was dull silver with red and blue markings along the wings. There was writing on the side, but I had no idea what it said.

I did not know how to read. 

The Mandalorian pressed a button on the wrist of his armor, and the ramp of the ship dropped to the sand.

Were we leaving Tatooine? Where were we going? Were there more people onboard?

I knew better than to ask those questions. Though I was sure this Mandalorian might of been better than Jabba, I had no doubt in my mind I would have a black eye should I question him.

Following the big blue Mandalorian into his ship, I took one last glance at the world outside.

It might have been my last before another life in captivity. I wanted to have this memory of brief freedom to look back on - when I was in the open and not surrounded by walls.

I couldn’t remember my last glimpse of the outside before I had been brought to Jabba. Just that I felt cold.

The ramp to the ship closed, and I was able to catch what I thought would be my last glimpse of daylight as it did.

I turned around to find the Mandalorian looking at me, helmet slightly tilted.

There was a beat of silence, enough that I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Did I do something wrong?

I shifted my weight on my feet, wincing at the pain.

“Refresher is over there,” the Mandalorian gestured to his left. “And my quarters are this way.” He turned and walked farther into the hull, before pointing to a door near the back. “You can sleep there whenever you want. I’m mostly in the cockpit anyway.”

I felt puzzled. He was allowing me into his space? Into his bed? I didn’t belong there. I was perfectly fine sleeping on the ground wherever I could be out of the way. 

I would sleep in a crate if it meant no more Jabba.

Then again, I belonged to this Mandalorian now. His ship, his rules. Whatever he wanted me to do, I would do it. Even if that meant he wanted me to sleep in his space.

“Thank you,” I whispered, unsure whether I was permitted to speak at all.

“I’ll put us in space, then we can get that collar off of you.”

My collar? He wanted to take my collar off? That was awfully strange. I hadn't had my collar off since… well… I couldn't remember. Maybe he wanted to put a new one on me.

Were there such things as Mandalorian slave collars? Maybe they really were slavers like the Hutts.

I hoped it wouldn't hurt any more than my current one did.

The Mandalorian moved to a ladder embedded within the wall. He climbed up and disappeared into what I assumed to be the cockpit.

I couldn't help but look around. This ship was neat and organized. There were crates stacked up near the ramp, and I noticed a round window between the door to the refresher and the Mandaloroian’s quarters.

I walked over to the window, just as the ship jerked. The ground below the ship grew smaller and smaller as it lifted into the air. I watched as the planet of Tatooine, where I had lived nearly all of my life, begin to disappear the further up we flew.

I wondered if I would ever see it again, not that my memories there had been found ones.

I heard footsteps descend the ladder, and I quickly turned away from the window like I was just caught stealing a bottle of spotchka.

Although, the Mandalorian did not seem to mind.

He walked over to me, and I tried to keep my gaze cast downward. I didn’t know what would be considered disrespectful to this powerful man.

Ending up with a severed head was not the way I wanted to go.

I felt so uncertain. When I was with Jabba I at least knew how to keep unnoticed, and how to act to avoid trouble. Now I was left in the dark.

The big blue Mandalorian pulled out the triangular rod he had pocketed earlier.

He slowly stepped closer to me and asked, “What’s your name?”

I hesitated. “(Y/n), but you can call me whatever you like.”

“(Y/n),” said the Mandalorian. “That name sounds familiar, though I still can’t seem to put a finger on it.”

_Still_ sound familiar? What else was familiar? I had never met a Mandalorian before. Surely he must be mistaken.

“What…um, what may I call you?” I asked.

The Mandalorian fidgeted with the metal rod between his fingers. “... Paz,” he said. “Though you should call me Mando in front of others.”

“Paz,” I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. Much better than _Jabba_.

“Let’s take this off,” Paz said, his gloved fingers brushing between the skin of my neck and the metal of my collar.

I flinched but tilted my head to the side anyway.

He lifted the rod to a hole in the back, pressing it inside before he twisted it.

There was a clicking noise, before a pressure I never noticed was there had suddenly been lifted from my neck.

I felt like I could breathe again when I didn’t even know I was desperate for more air. This only made me feel sad knowing there was likely another collar waiting for me soon.

I couldn't help but lift my hands to touch my neck. I hadn't felt the skin there since I was little. I whimpered at the touch, the skin burning with irritation for having been rubbed all the time.

Paz turned the collar over in his hands before setting it down on a nearby crate. “Here,” he said, reaching up to a compartment in the wall. “I have bacta gel you can use.”

He handed me a white tube, and I thanked him.

It was cold on my fingers and even more cold on my neck. Though, I had never felt so much relief in my life. Bacta really was a medical miracle.

“Now, let’s see where you come from,” Paz said, picking up the collar and turning the rod until it clicked again.

A hologram was pulled up in front of him, listing things in letters I couldn't read.

I watched as he scrolled through them - through the history of my designations in Jabba’s palace all the way to the day I had been sold. It was like a receipt of sorts.

You were more valuable if people knew where you came from, as well as what sort of work you had been tasked with before. I had seen Jabba pull up this information on the necks of slaves and read it aloud for all to hear when he was trying to make a little extra. Mine had never been accessed from my neck before. And I had certainly never had it read about for me to hear. 

As Paz got to the bottom, his helmet shot up.

It felt like he was staring into my soul.

“...What’s wrong?” I hesitantly asked.

There was a beat of silence.

“...You were a foundling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandoa Translations  
> :  
> “Harr’chak!” - “Damn it!”
> 
> “Ne shab'rud'ni!” - Similar to “Don’t mess with me!” (but stronger, and more threatening)


	3. Mav (Free)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/n) represses memories from her past after Paz explains how he knows her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! You can also find this fic on Tumblr under Blue-Bird-On-A-Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM on Tumblr me! I don’t bite 😊. Enjoy!

“What?” I asked, not sure I heard Paz correctly. 

_You were a foundling._

I was _not_ a foundling. _Foundlings_ were the adoptive children of the Mandalorians, raised to be strong warriors. _I_ was not strong nor a warrior, let alone raised by Paz’s kind. He must have been mistranslating. 

Paz continued to stare at me like he was frozen in carbonite. 

“That can’t be right. I’ve never met a Mandalorian before you,” I whispered. 

He just kept looking at me, and it started to make my skin crawl. Was he mad at me? Was he considering taking me back? What did this all mean for him? I wasn’t a foundling and never had been. He needed to look again.

“...That’s why I recognized you,” Paz muttered, more to himself than to me. “You disappeared after the Shereshir be Ade.”

“...the...the what?”

Paz quickly stood up, taking a step toward me. “The Kidnapping of Children,” he said, as though that would explain everything. “I never thought I would see you again.”

I took a hesitant step back. He was mistaken. If he took a look at the holo again, he would see I wasn’t a foundling. I never was. 

I couldn't bring myself to believe I could have been one of him. The Mandalorians were just stories to me until a few days ago.

“I-I... I don’t know who you are, Paz,” I said. “I-I’m sorry.”

Paz’s steps abruptly stopped. His shoulders tensed and I could hear his breath hitch through the modulator. 

“I’ve belonged to Jabba for as long as I can remember,” I continued. “I don’t even know what planet I was born on, or who brought me to him.”

A pause. This silence from him was making me more and more nervous. 

“...I’ve only heard of Mandalorians through stories from bounty hunters. You must be mistaking me for someone else, and I’m so sorry I mislead you-”

“We were playing in the covert. You wanted to play some hiding game, and I was looking for you… You couldn't stop laughing,” Paz’s shoulders deflated. “Then there was a loud boom - an explosion - and we were running through the tunnels. But you were so small. I didn’t-” Paz’s helmet tilted to the side, away from me. “I hadn't even noticed how far behind you were-”

“Y-you’re think- thinking of someone else. I-I wasn’t-” I could feel the tears building behind my eyes.

This was freaking me out. He said he knew me? Or at least he thought he knew me. I didn’t know anyone. I had grown up alone - raised by other slaves and taught two things. There are the rulers and the ruled. You are determined for either destiny and are good for nothing else. 

This was turning my whole galaxy around. 

“Our covert was attacked and in the aftermath, we couldn't find several of our children,” Paz explained, looking back at me and taking another step forward. “I couldn't find you.”

My breathing was shallow as I struggled to keep from crying. This couldn't have been happening. I wasn’t who he said I was. There wasn’t any other path I could have lived. My slavery was inevitable. I wasn’t once the very thing I had longed to be since I was younger. I hadn't… I couldn't of-

“(Y/n),” said Paz. “Ni ceta.”

“I-I don’t know wha- what that means,” I whimpered. “I-I’m just- just a slave. You-you’re thinking of- of the wrong per-person,” I choked out. “But I-I can’t eve-even read to show you it-it’s no-not true,” I gestured to my collar.

I wasn’t. I wasn’t. I wasn’t. 

I didn’t know this man. He was wrong about me. He thought I was someone I wasn’t. Someone he mistook for a childhood friend.

Everything was crashing down around me because I do remember feeling cold. I remember feeling afraid, and lost, and alone. I could never picture any of it but I always remembered how it felt. It felt abandoned.

Being forced to leave wherever I came from, only to be thrown into the grubby hands of Jabba felt… like I had been ripped from whatever home had come before.

But I couldn't remember, and my experience must have been different from whoever this Mandalorian was talking about. No matter how similar it might have been.

Paz reached behind him for the collar with its holo still displaying. He thrust it toward me, pointing at things with his gloved fingers. 

“Right here,” Paz explained, “It says you were gifted, not bought. You were proof of eradication of a Mandalorian covert. That’s why you were given to Jabba. You were the false proof of a job well done.”

I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, or the whimpers that left my mouth. I couldn't remember these things. He wanted me to remember, and I couldn't do that. 

“... I-I can’t read, Paz…”

I must have looked even more pathetic to him if he thought I was once a foundling. Balling my eyes out like I wasn’t in the presence of a Mandalorian. 

My back finally hit the wall behind me, and I hadn't realized till that moment just how far I had moved away from him.

“I-I’m sorry that I-I’m not who- who you think I am…” 

Paz remained silent. 

“I’m sor-sorry you have the wrong per-person.” 

He continued to stare at me. I could see his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He was going to hit me soon, I was sure of it.

But he never did.

Maybe I was supposed to play along. Maybe he wanted me to pretend to be this other person because I looked vaguely like them.

All of a sudden, Paz lurched forward and stormed up the ladder to the cockpit. 

I held my breath at the sound of his boots, only taking in air once I heard the door to the cockpit close.

I was left alone, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.

Nothing but my thoughts to drown in.

~ ~ ~

The more I dwelled on it, the more I felt these vague images and feelings bubbling to the surface. 

I remember bars.   
  
And it was dark.

I remember being yelled at. Being told to quiet down and stop squirming. 

But I don’t recall any faces. Just noise and feelings. 

There had been a smell of something metallic.

I didn’t want to think about these things. I didn’t like to acknowledge these things. They implied that somewhere in my lifetime I had not been a slave. That I was taken or abducted from somewhere. I did not like to think that if something had changed - maybe I ate something else that morning or slept in a little later - then I might not have ever been a slave.

False memories. That’s what I decided to chalk these things up to, even though these things had existed in the back of my mind long before Paz entered Jabba’s Palace. 

Yes, false memories was all that they were. I had simply made them up.

But I was not dreaming. My neck still throbbed with pain, even as the bacta gel absorbed into my skin. It had been a few hours, I assumed. Maybe the pain would go away in a few more. 

I lifted my head from my arms, which rested on my folded-up knees. 

Corners were nice. I liked corners. They made me feel secure and safe. All I had to worry about was what was in front of me, not behind. 

Jabba’s Palace was sort of like a corner. I knew what to expect. I knew what to look out for. 

Paz was like sitting in the middle of an open room with doors on every wall… Maybe the room was even a circle, and the doors were identical just to make it more confusing. I felt like being here with Paz was so full of uncertainty. Any door might open at any second, and who knew what would lie behind it. 

Maybe a Rancor. Maybe a Jawa. 

Or maybe it would be stars. 

Having raised my head, I took a puffy-eyed glance around the hull. The first thing that caught my attention was the round window from before. 

I had never seen anything so breathtaking. What was this? Why were there streaks of light - blues and whites - flying past us. 

I couldn't help myself. 

Rising up on sore muscles and blistered feet, I shuffled my way to the window’s ledge. I lifted a hand and placed a few fingers on the lip, the cool glass feeling nice on my warm skin.

It was truly mesmerizing. Was this space? Was that truly what the galaxy looked like? Just a blur of little stars and planets, flying by so fast they looked like thin threads.

I would make something keen to a blanket from those threads. It would be blue, white, and black. It would look just as beautiful as the scenery beyond the glass. I would sleep under it - under thousands of stars. No one would touch me under my little blanket. I would be too lost in the galaxy for them to find me anyhow. 

“Clothes.”

I jumped, spun on my feet and pulled my hands to my chest.   
  
Paz stood at the bottom of the ladder. I hadn't even heard him come down. 

He held a bundle of clothes in one hand, and in the other was my collar which no longer displayed the holo. 

“You’ll get cold in what you’re wearing, so I thought you might like to change,” Paz said.

He had brought me clothes? From the looks of it, they were big and made from thick looking wool. They must have been his. 

Of course! This whole time he had been dressed from head to toe in armor, while I was still clad in that skimpy dancer’s outfit. I must have been making him uncomfortable.

“... Um. I can set them in the ‘fresher for you.”

Oh. I should say something. “That’s ok,” I said, taking a few steps toward him. “You don’t have to do that.”

My eyes must have been puffy. I wanted to rub at them.

Paz handed me the clothes. 

“Thank you,” I said. I took one last glance at him before I started walking away. I tried my best not to let on to my hurt feet. I had already been given more care from him than I ever had from anyone else before. I didn’t want to bother him.

Stepping into the refresher, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. I had good hygiene habits and was always keeping myself clean - I had just never used a shower with water before. Sonic showers were all that was allowed at Jabba’s. Tatooine was a planet with so little water it had to be carefully extracted from the air. Water showers were considered wasteful luxuries very few could afford. 

Should I ask Paz how this worked? Maybe not, he must have been busy. I could just skip the shower all together, but I would still be covered in a layer of sweat and sand. Then again, what if I started to fiddle with something and ended up breaking his nice shower? That didn’t sound too great either. Hmm… 

Welp… I suppose the worst that could happen was a bruised cheek and unanswered question. 

Clutching his clothes tightly to my chest, I turned around and poked my head out from the doorway. 

Sitting on a crate on the other end of the hull was the big blue Mandalorian. He was fiddling with my collar, taking it apart and organizing the parts. 

I wondered what that red blinking thing was.

“Paz?” I called, my voice feeling small and unsure. 

His head shot up and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Yes, _Sarad_?”

I would ask what that meant another time. 

“Um, I-I don’t know how to use your shower,” I weakly admitted.   
  
Paz stood up and slowly walked over to me. 

I flinched as he passed, not having expected him to actually enter the small room. He must not have thought my question was that dumb after all. 

Paz gestured to a few knobs and switches on the wall.   
  
“This one,” he pointed. “Turns the water on while this other one controls the temperature.”

“Temperature?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Paz turned his head to look at me. “The hot water doesn't last very long though, but I wouldn't worry about it too much.”

“Oh…” Then I wouldn't waste his hot water. 

What would a hot shower feel like? Sonic showers were the same temperature as the air in the rooms they were in. They had no temperature control. Could I make this shower have cold water?

“These other switches are for the lights, but you don’t have to worry about those for now either,” Paz explained. 

“Thank you,” I said, setting his clothes onto the small counter.   
  
I felt something brush against my shoulder, and I tensed.

“I hope this won’t scar,” whispered Paz, running a gloved finger just under the skin of my irritated neck. “Though it would be a show of your strength. Resilience.” 

My strength? 

“...Paz?”

“Hmm.”

“...Have...Have you ever had a slave before? Owned one, I mean.”

Paz’s hand immediately retreated to his side. “No.”

A curt answer. Short and to the point. I supposed I should have elaborated. 

“Well, I don’t mean to be-” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. “-Overbearing, or anything. But, what would a Mandalorian want with a slave?”

“... Excuse me?” 

Yep, this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have asked. I should have kept my mouth shut and-

“Is that what you still think you are? Do you think you’re my slave?” Paz asked, though I don’t think I was supposed to answer. Was it malice in his voice or disappointment?

Maybe I wasn’t _his_ slave, but rather he was taking me to someone else. Perhaps he didn’t like that word - _slave_ \- and wanted to call me something different. Or maybe- 

Oh. That’s right. He thought I was someone from his childhood. Someone he had lost. 

“You, (Y/n), are not a slave. You never will be again, do you understand?”

I weakly nodded my head.

“I need you to say it. You are not a slave.”

“...I’m not a slave,” I said, though I didn’t actually believe those words. There must have been a catch to this. 

“You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. If you want me to drop you off on the closest planet, just tell me. If you want to say what’s on your mind, say it. You are not in chains anymore, and you certainly don’t belong to anyone. You are _free_ ,” Paz said, his voice was firm. 

I’m not a slave. I can do what I want. I can say what I want… I-

“ _I am free_ ,” I whispered. I felt a lump forming in my throat.

I did not belong to Paz. He had freed me. He was giving me this opportunity to start over.

All I could do was nod my head while my throat closed up and I tried to keep the waterworks from starting. I could feel my lip starting to quiver and I hoped the big blue Mandalorian would leave before the dam broke.

Paz nodded his head, “Good. No one can tell you what to do ever again.” He then brushed past me and into the hull. The door closed behind him. 

I stood there for a moment, focused on my breathing and not my racing heart.

I turned on the water like Paz showed me and started taking off my- Oola’s clothes. 

I stepped into the shower, muscles tensing at the cold temperature. I intentionally set it that way so I wouldn't waste any warm water.

I felt the droplets cascade down my face. It soon became difficult to tell what water was from the shower and what came from my silent crying. 

I felt so overwhelmed with happiness and fear. I was ecstatic at the prospect of no longer being a slave. Paz said no one could tell me what to do anymore. I liked that. I didn’t want to be forced into anything ever again. 

However, this brought forth so many new questions. What was I going to do with myself? Where would I go? Would Paz want me around? Did I even want to stay with Paz? I didn’t even know how to survive on my own. If Paz dropped me off on some foreign planet, I would have no idea how to make a life for myself. 

Damn the maker, I couldn't even read! 

Stepping out of the shower and turning it off, I took a look at myself in the mirror.   
  
Who was that? I had never seen myself all wet before. My hair looked a shade darker and was weighed down by all the water it had soaked up. Was this what people normally looked like after getting wet? 

I had never felt so clean. I was refreshed and much calmer than I had been before. I decided I would never use a sonic shower again if I could avoid it. 

Water showers were much nicer. 

I took the clothes Paz had given me and put them on. They were far too big. The black long-sleeved shirt was more like a dress on me. The sleeves hung past my fingers in a way that made me feel like I could gently slap something with them. The pants, on the other hand, were gray loose-fitting sweats, likely meant more for lounging than for bounty hunter work. They were also much too long, so I rolled them up till I could see my feet. 

These must have been clothes that Paz slept in. 

I had to reuse the undergarments that came with Oola’s outfit. Maybe I could ask Paz to take me someplace where I could get my own. 

Maybe… _Or_ I could just rewash these and not bother him with it. What would be worse, asking for new clothes or asking for a place to wash these? Hmm… I didn’t know what would be less trouble for him.

Walking out of the ‘fresher, I saw Paz had once again been working on my collar. I wondered what he was doing with it. 

I had my- Oola’s clothes folded and clutched to my chest. I stood there awkwardly. 

What would I do now? 

“Um, thank you,” I said. 

Paz looked up from where he sat.

“For everything, I mean… I’ve never taken a shower with water before. It’s really nice.”

Paz nodded his head. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long day and I’m sure you're tired.”

I was. My feet still hurt and so did my neck. Would this Mandalorian go to sleep as well?

“Ok,” I said. 

I remember Paz saying I could sleep in his bed, so I made my way to his quarters. 

Opening the door and walking it, the room was much smaller than I imagined it would be for such a big Mandalorian. 

In fact, it wasn’t even really a room. It was only a bed and took up the whole space. 

I crawled inside and shuffled around to pull back the sheets. I layed down on the only pillow, leaving the door up as to not feel boxed in.  
  
Then I realized my damp hair was making the pillow wet so I pushed the pillow aside and layed down without it. 

How did Paz fit in here? There was no way I could imagine him sleeping comfortably in such a tight space. 

Regardless, this was the best thing I had ever laid on. It was much nicer than a soiled mattress with only a thin blanket. 

It was warm too. Much warmer than what I was used to. Everything was soft and cozy. I felt safe here. 

Safe enough to fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandoa Translations:
> 
> “Shereshir be Ade” - “Kidnapping of Children”
> 
> “Ni ceta” - an apology (rare)
> 
> “Sarad” - “Flower”


	4. Beroya (Bounty Hunter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz takes (Y/n) to Verith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! You can also find this fic on Ao3 under B1ue_Bird_0n_A_Wire. Please feel free to give me feedback, as I don’t have a beta reader and often miss spelling mistakes. If you feel there need to be more warnings/other warnings, feel free to DM me! 😊 Enjoy!

_“-op! Stop it! Get it off! It hurts!” screamed a child’s voice._

_“Keep quiet!”_

_There was the sound of skin on skin - someone had just been slapped._

_“If I hear another word outta that mouth, that lip won’t be the only thing bleedin’! You’ll wear that collar and you’ll like it!”_

_A whimper. The sound of heavy breathing - shuddering, if you will._

_Heavy footsteps could be heard walking away before something slammed shut. Perhaps a door of some sort._

_“I-I wanna go home,” cried the child’s voice. “I want my aliit.”_

**“Paz?”**

The audio recording immediately stopped.

The big blue Mandalorian sat hunched over something in the cockpit. I could see his shoulders tense at the sound of my voice. He reached for a rag at his feet and covered whatever was in front of him.

“Paz, what was that?” I asked, trying to peek around his body.

“It’s nothing,” Paz said, standing to full height as he turned to face me. “I didn’t hear you coming up the ladder.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I wanted to ask where we’re going.”

Paz’s helmet tilted down and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “First we’re going to stop at Verith, so we can refuel and get you some clothes.”

I felt my chest tighten but in that sort of warm good way. Here I was worried about asking for undergarments, and Paz had already been planning to get me my own clothes.

I never had my own clothes before. Outfits were always passed around between Jabba’s slaves. We never owned anything for ourselves. It was all meant to be shared or borrowed.

I smiled. “Can I stay here with you?” I asked, taking look at the wide window that showed off the passing stars. “You have a pretty view up here, and in all honestly I’m not too used to the quiet. It was always noisy at Jabba’s. Even when he was asleep he would snore.”

Paz quietly laughed. Actually _laughed_. His head leaned back a bit and his shoulders shook.

“Of course, (Y/n),” Paz said, gesturing to the co-pilot chair. “How did you sleep? You were in there for a while.”

“I was?” I asked as I sat down. “Your bed is really nice. I’ve never slept on something so comfortable before.”

Paz shoved whatever was under the rag to the side with his boot, beneath the ship’s controls. “You flatter me. That bed is stiff, no need to sugar coat it.”

“I… I wasn’t,” I said, turning my gaze to the stars.

Paz sat down in the pilot’s chair. He stayed silent, but his helmet’s visor didn’t look away from me.

I watched the galaxy fly past us. I wondered how many people were out there. What kind of lives were they living?

What kind of life had this Mandalorian lived?

“Paz, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm.”

I assumed that meant yes. “You said you know me- or you knew me when we were children. But I can’t remember much of anything before Jabba.”

Paz nodded his head.

“... What was our childhood like?”

Paz’s helmet tilted upward as though he was thinking. His chair let out a creaking sound as he leaned back into it.

“Our childhood,” Paz said. He looked back at me, just as I was now looking at him. “... It was carefree. I was about seven when I first met you. Tinny little thing you were. Only about a year or two old, I think.”

I couldn’t help but picture a small boy wearing oversized Mandalorian armor, peering over a basket at an even smaller baby.

“I swore the creed not long after, so you wouldn’t remember what I looked like without the armor. I didn’t pay much attention to you at first. But we got older, and you learned to walk. Started following me everywhere,” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I had to watch out for you when I trained. Elbowed you a few times on accident. I didn’t know you were behind me. Made me become more aware of my surroundings…”

Paz lifted an elbow to his armrest, resting the chin of his helmet on his hand. “You liked playing games, but your favorite was this hiding game. I would count to something like ten while you hid somewhere in the covert. Then I would find you, and you would count to a number before you found me.”

I smiled, “That sounds like a pretty fun game.”

Paz nodded his head, “You would start laughing whenever I came close to your hiding spot. I never pretended I couldn’t hear you. Thought it would make you a better warrior that way.” A pause. “Well… Sometimes I let you get away with it,” he admitted.

I wondered if he was this kind with other children as well. Did he still play with them when they asked?

“... It was happy,” Paz said.

_Happy_. At least for a while, I suppose.

We sat in silence for a little longer, and my gaze fell to the blur of stars through the cockpit’s window.

Paz never turned away from me. He watched intently, but I didn’t feel as threatened by it. I couldn’t even see his eyes but I just had this feeling that his stare was one of curiosity or reminiscing. Instinct could be crazy that way.

“It’s good to see there is still some of that child left in you,” Paz whispered, as though he didn’t want to disturb the air in the room.

“Hmm?” I asked, still looking outside.

“You always did love the stars.”

I smiled but made no move to look at him.

“... I remember looking at the stars,” I said. “I remember a dark sky with tall trees. I had to squint my eyes to look past the branches… Or, at least I think I did.”

Paz seemed to hold his breath.

“...Just little white dots spread throughout the sky… I haven’t seen the sky since I was brought to Jabba. I never thought I would see it again, but then you showed up,” I turned to look at Paz. “You set me free so I could see the stars.”

How many of these stars had changed since I last saw them? How many had died or were new?

I looked down at my hands, playing with the excessively long sleeves. “I can’t remember much because I don’t allow myself to… Or rather, I wasn’t allowed to. I could keep my name but nothing else.”

A pause.

Of course, he didn’t want to hear about it. Why would he-

“What was your childhood like? With Jabba,” Paz asked.

Or maybe he did.

“Boring. Kept me on my toes I guess,” I said. “I didn’t have friends because the only ones I could freely talk to were other slaves. But, none of them stayed around or lived long enough to have a relationship with me… In all honesty, I don’t even know how I survived for so long… Maybe I’m just really good at keeping my head down, or maybe I’m just lucky.”

“I daydreamed a lot. Made the day go by faster. When I was bussing tables I got to overhear smugglers and bounty hunters talking about the things from their travels. I learned about-“

Well, I suppose I re-learned or rediscovered, or-

“- I mean. I guess I heard about Mandalorians… I became obsessed with them. I used to have dreams about Mandalorians storming Jabba’s palace and taking me away to be a foundling.”

I smiled, glancing up at Paz.

“I suppose that in a way, those dreams came true.”

“But you weren’t bussing tables when I showed up,” Paz pointed out.

I felt the heat rise to my face and I let out a nervous laugh. “Um, I may have had a bad encounter with a bounty hunter. This guy was trying to hit on me-“

Paz straightened up in his chair.

“-and I wasn’t having it, so he convinced Jabba that I would make a good dancer. And everyone knows that dancers are dead within a week or so. Which is why he-“

“Where is he?” Paz interrupted.

“Oh! He’s dead. Jabba fed him to the rancor.”

Paz almost seemed disappointed. “That’s unfortunate. I would have liked to kill him myself.”

“Oh?” I asked. “How come?”

“No one can look at you or treat you like a piece of meat. Not as long as I’m around,” Paz explained. “He’s lucky it was a rancor that killed him and not me.”

I felt my heart flutter. No one had ever expressed this kind of protectiveness over me. Not in a million years did I think anyone could.

“You humor me,” I said, my voice quiet as I looked away from Paz.

“No, Sarad. Just being honest.”

A red light started flashing on the ship’s control panel, and Paz turned around in his chair to press a few buttons and flip a switch. “We’re exiting hyperspace now. You might want to strap in.”

Strap in? What did he mean by-

The ship jerked as it came to a slow. I flew out of my seat and onto the floor with a yelp.

Oh. That’s what he meant by strap in.

Embarrassed, I scurried back to the co-pilot’s seat hoping that Paz hadn’t noticed.

He definitely had. His shoulders were shaking as though he was trying to suppress a laugh.

Oh boy.

Looking out the window, I let out an audible gasp. A planet, covered in patches of green and brown with huge white clouds swirling about. It was absolutely breathtaking.

“Welcome to Verith,” Paz said as he took the ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

Drawing closer, I could see the outline of tall mountains covered in little green fuzzy things. The closer the got, I soon realized those were actually really tall trees. Little towns and cities were scattered about between the foliage. I could see colorful banners and flags waving in the wind.

I had never seen such breathtaking scenery.

~ ~ ~

As Paz lowered the ramp of the ship, I felt excitement bubble up within me. Tatooine had been so dry and dusty. From the looks of it this planet was the complete opposite.

I followed behind Paz, taking a quick look around.

This hanger was huge. There were so many people running about with tools and dirty faces from working on ships all day.

A teal twi’lik woman walked up to us, sparing a glance at my oversized clothing before meeting my eyes.

She was beautiful in her gray jumpsuit, even with black marks smudged across her cheek.

“How can I help you?” she asked, looking between Paz and I.

“Fuel,” Paz stated, handing over a small pouch. “We won’t be long.”

The woman nodded and accepted the money with ease before walking toward the ship.

“Let’s get going. The sooner we can get back the better,” Paz said.

“Why is that?” I asked as we walked out of the hanger.

I had never seen so much vegetation. There were trees everywhere I turned, and bushes scattered all about. Green, string-like things were hanging onto buildings. I could feel the compact dirt beneath my toes. It was cool and fairly moist. Nothing like the rough sand on Tatooine.

“This planet is crowded. Far too many people for my taste,” Paz stated.

I smiled. “Are you not around people very much?”

Paz let out an amused huff. “Not large crowds like this.”

I could see what he meant. I felt like I needed to hold onto Paz so I wouldn’t lose him. There were so many people running around all packed together. I could hardly hear over all the commotion.

Soon enough, Paz led me to a marketplace littered with different vendors.

They shouted as people walked by, yelling about deals or asking questions about what people had or didn’t have.

It was funny watching people either get sucked into a conversation and subsequently buying something, or get irritated at the vendor’s efforts.

I could sit somewhere and watch the comings and goings of this little marketplace all day.

“Hey! Miss!”

One of the vendors reached out from his stand to touch my shoulder.

I yelped in surprise and jumped back, accidentally bumping into Paz.

“Ya know what would look good on you?” He asked, holding up a dangly-looking collar in his other hand.

That was an awfully sparkly collar. It didn’t look practical at all. I could probably rip that thing from my neck if I wanted to.

A gloved hand aggressively swatted this man’s arm away from my body.

“Not interested,” Paz stated, placing one hand on my back to guide me forward.

“I wasn’ talkin’ ta you!” The vendor called. “That pretty lady ya got there-”

I felt Paz’s hand drop as he turned his head toward the man.

His helmet tilted downward almost like he was glaring.

“Alright! Alright! Sheesh,” the vendor waved his hands and looked out into the crowd for someone else to bother.

Wait a minute. Why did he suddenly stop?

“How did you do that?” I asked Paz as we continued walking down the street.

“No one likes to be threatened by a blaster,” the big blue Mandalorian simply stated.

“Oh…” Yeah, I suppose that made sense.

As we turned a corner onto another busy street, I heard laugher coming from not too far away. It was young laughter, like that of a-

“Look out!”

A young boy came running through the crowd, pushing past people and giggling.

Paz sidestepped out of the way just as the boy went flying past.

“I’m gonna get you! You can’t hide from me!” yelled another boy, quickly catching up to the first one.

Children. It had been a while since I had seen a child, let alone ones that were happy.

I couldn’t help but stop and watch as they zig-sagged through the street.

I hoped they would be ok. I hoped they would stay happy and carefree for the rest of their lives. I hoped they wouldn’t be snatched from their homes and be forced to-

“Almost there, Sarad,” Paz said, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I turned back to find him looking at me. Whoops.

“Sorry, I’m coming.”

Near the middle of the street was another vendor, but she was much less pushy. Hunched over and walking with a cane, her dark eyes light up when she saw Paz.

“ _Beroya!_ ” she exclaimed. “It has been so long. How have you been?”

Bair-oy-ah? I thought his name was Paz.

The Mandalorian chuckled. “I’ve been fine. I have someone I would like you to meet.”

I nervously waved my hand at the woman. “Hi.”

The old woman gave me a once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “My goodness, what happened to you?” She placed a wrinkled hand on my collarbone.

Oh. I had forgotten about the lines on my neck. This place had already made me feel too comfortable.

“Oh, um-”

Paz placed a hand on my shoulder and started speaking in another language to this woman.

She looked up at him and her eyes widened before softening and glancing back to me. “Oh child, how strong you are.”

What? What did she mean? Paz had said that too.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

The woman smiled, before swatting Paz in the leg with her walking stick.

He didn’t budge.

“How come you haven’t introduced us yet, Beroya? Where are your manners?” asked the woman, before turning back to me. “I am Jalimia, an old friend of Paz.”

Oh good. His name was Paz and I wasn’t going crazy.

“Nice to meet you Jalimia. I’m (Y/n),” I said.

“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get you into clothes that aren’t three times your size. Come, look here,” Jalimia said, walking behind her vendor’s stand.

I looked to Paz to see if it was ok.

Paz gestured toward Jalimia. “You don’t need my permission.”

I smiled before following after the old woman.

“Let’s see. What sorts of colors do you usually wear?” she asked.

“Uhh, great question,” I said.

On Tattoine, wearing white or generally light colors was a trademark of slavery. Before Oola’s outfit, I wore faded beige tunics. However, black didn’t feel right just yet. Black was symbolic of freedom, but I still didn’t fully feel free. Whatever that feeling may be. I didn’t know what to do with myself or where I was going. Almost… in a limbo of sorts.

“Hmm,” Jalimia looked me up and down before glancing at Paz.

She gasped, “I know what would look nice on you!” She reached under her stand.

Jalimia pulled out an old wooden trunk, filled to the brim with clothing. Opening it, she shuffled through several colorful pieces before pulling out some duller outfits underneath.

That made me feel better. At least she wouldn’t put me in anything flashy. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself.

“Ah, here we are,” Jalimia said as she pulled out a sky blue tunic top and a pair of dark gray pants. “Go behind that curtain and try these on.”

She shoved the outfit into my hands.

“And you can’t forget these, my dear,” Jalimia whispered, tucking something between the folds of the outfit.

She then waved me off before turning to a box full of shoes under her stand.

I made my way behind the curtian, safely out of view from the people walking by. Unfolding everything, I found a plain pair of undergarments between the folds of the tunic. I felt my eyes dampen at the gesture. 

I took off the clothes Paz had lent me and put on Jalimia’s. They fit much nicer around my from. There was not much excess fabric on the sleeves, and the pants didn’t hang below my feet.

Stepping back out into the light with Paz’s clothes hugged tightly to my chest, my eyes fell onto the big blue Mandalorian. He was standing on the opposite side of the vendor’s stand, leaning against it with his arm crossed.

He straightened up once he spotted me.

“Oh how beautiful!” exclaimed Jalimia. “If I didn’t know they were nearly extinct, I would say you look like a Jedi in training.”

“A _what_ in _where_?” I asked.

“No, Sarad, you look fine,” Paz turned to Jalimia. “Thank you. How much do I-”

“No, no, no. You have done me one too many favors. You just promise me to take good care of this one,” Jalimia pointed at me.

She then pulled up a pair of boots from the box. “And take these as well,” she said.

“Oh, I can’t possibly-”

“Hush child,” Jalimia said to me. “Think of these as gifts that come with your newfound freedom.”

Oh… That’s what Paz must have told her about.

“Go ahead and try them on. We don’t want you getting any blisters walking around in those boots.”

I slipped the boots on. They were snug against my feet, and padded enough on the inside that I didn’t feel any pebbles beneath the soles. I liked them.

I smiled. “You are so kind, Jalimia. Thank you for these.”

“We should get going,” Paz said to Jalimia. “Our ship is waiting for us not too far from here.”

Jalimia feigned disappointment. “What, you don’t want to spend a night here with old Jalimia?” she laughed. “I better see you around soon, Paz. Your company is anyways welcome.”

Paz nodded his head. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”

With that, I gave Jalimia a wave goodbye before following Paz back down the busy street.

I felt happier. Lighter. I had my own clothes now.

“How do you know Jalimia?” I asked as we turned a corner.

Paz’s helmet tilted to glance down at me. “She was a Mandalorian a long time ago. Her _riduur_ died during the Siege of Mandalore. After her death, Jalimia took off her helmet never to dawn it again.”

“Oh…” I said. That made my heart ache. Jalimia seemed like such a happy person. I couldn’t imagine seeing her so distraught from losing someone she was close to.

“... What is a ridurr?” I asked.

“A life partner. Spouse. In Jalimia’s case, her ridurr was her wife,” Paz explained.

That made my heart hurt even more. She lost the most important person in her life. I couldn’t imagine having to endure such pain.

“... Where are we going next, Paz?”

“That’s up to you,” he said. “If you want to stay with me.”

The thought of not staying with him terrified me. I had nowhere else to go. Besides, Paz had already been kinder to me than most. Aside from Jalimia.

“If… If you don’t mind I would like to stay. At least for now,” I explained. “I hate to be a burden or anything, but I also don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Paz hummed, though I couldn’t tell what for.

“You could never be a burden.”

I smiled. That meant more to me than he could even know.

“... Once we get back to the ship, I was going to set course for Ket’yci. There is a Mandalorian covert stationed there.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “No way! You’re actually taking me to a Mandalorian covert?”

Paz chuckled, “Keep your voice down.”

“Paz, you don’t understand. I’ve wanted this since I was little,” I loudly whispered.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that you will be embraced with open arms,” Paz said, though I still caught the hurt in his voice he tried to mask.

It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t remember. He knew that. If the roles were reversed, I’m sure I would be just as pained that my childhood friend had no memory of me either.

I grinned up at him. “Let’s get going then,” I excitedly said, gently gripping Paz’s arm and pulling him down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandoa Translations:
> 
> “Aliit” - “Family”
> 
> “Sarad” - “Flower”
> 
> “Beroya” - “Bounty Hunter”
> 
> “Riduur” - “Patner/Spouse/Husband/Wife”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter coming soon! 😊


End file.
